Needless to Say, the Gryffie was Stunned
by Rebel Goddess
Summary: Harry follows a toad, goes where Aurors fear to tread, gets engaged, discovers the secrets of Hogwarts and a brave new world opens up before him... Then DigForGlory of Durmstrang join in the fun. In cooperation with MonkeyAxman1302.
1. Harry and the Basketweavers of Slytherin

This is the first MonkeyAxman1302 & Rebel Goddess production. Not sure if that makes us Monkey-Goddess, Rebel-Axman or just MARG.

Disclaimer: The authors would like to hereby state that This is Not the Greatest and Best Story in the World, This is Just a Tribute. Bonus points for the first person to name the band in a review. This is only as filthy-minded as you are. Hence the rating.

This takes place in the absolutely tiny part of time that occurs at the end of HBP at the very end of the sixth year before Dumbledore is killed, actually about three nights before. Harry is therefore almost 17.

We don't even own what we've written. It owes its soul to Nonjon. If you haven't read his comic HP trilogy beginning with "Where in the World is Harry Potter?" then what by Merlin's earlobes are you doing reading this? Go, and if you've laughed yourself stupid enough to cope with this, return with our blessings. If you haven't laughed at that, check your pulse. We think you're dead and we could really use a new unidentifiable corpse.

**The Basket Weavers of Slytherin**

Through the dark halls of the haunted castle, the toad joyfully hopped. No prince in disguise, his life was one of simple pleasures – catching flies, petting pussies, eluding envious Potions masters who longed for toadskin shoes, pissing on insufferable nephew's underwear and other innocent pastimes.

Behind him the invisible boy ran, his footsteps echoing loudly in the empty corridors.

The toad's jaundiced skin shone brightly in the otherwise dim hallways, tempting the boy ever onwards to places he should never enter.

"Trevor!" Harry risked a panting call as he skidded around a corner and watched the toad leap over the edge of the staircase into the waiting dark below. "Bloody toad!"

A crash echoing to his left told him that Peeves was about. "Wee student beastie?" The poltergeist crowed, "Student out of bed after hours!"

Thinking on his feet, Harry dove after the toad and instantly regretted it as his stomach met the stairs and his glasses flew from his nose only to smash into the far wall.

He groaned softly. "I'm going to thump Neville the next time he asks me to fetch his damn toad back after hours."

Peeves was an incandescent blur above Harry's head as he swooped towards the noise and through the wall, clearly on his way to fetch a higher authority.

Gingerly picking himself up off the stone floor, feeling every one of his sixteen years, Harry reached for his glasses. "Reparo." He said softly, then put them on and looked around for the first time, only then realising that he was in the Slytherin's dark dungeons, but with no idea of where he was in relation to the Common Room.

"Bugger."

It was not Harry's voice but Draco's that spoke.

"Crabbe, has your…"

The dim sound faded out of hearing as the blond haired Slytherin seemed to move away from the other side of the wall by Harry's head.

The sound returned, "…gone floppy?"

The other boy grunted in reply. "No mine's still as hard as Goyle's skull."

"Eww, it's gone all soft and sticky," Pansy squealed.

"Attention students!" Harry could hear the bat-like teacher's footsteps prowling across the room. "Grasp the untreated member firmly and rub briskly up and down with even strokes, making sure the shaft is well lubricated with hardening potion."

There was a brief pause and a moan.

"Now girls make sure the opening is fully prepared and that it is wet enough. Boys, push it firmly and carefully in, making sure that it is completely eased into place."

"You're doing it wrong, Draco. It doesn't go there." Pansy whined unhappily.

The blond boy grunted. "Of course it goes there. This is exactly how my parents showed me."

Harry couldn't hear the rest as he was trying to choke back vomit and began to cough.

Luckily, Trevor chose that precise moment to reappear and ribbit loudly to cover the sound, knocking over one of Snape's larger flasks of potion as he hopped across the room.

The potion fell onto the floor and Harry could hear it melting stone into bubbling goo from the next dungeon.

"Professor!" Millicent Bulstrode cried out.

"My moistening oil!" Snape yelled, slamming his fist down. "That damn toad! Fifty points to the student that catches it!"

"But my bush needs taming!" Millicent whimpered, "How will I cope if there's no wetting potion?"

Harry realised that his friend's familiar was about to become a bit too familiar with the Potion Master's feet and rushed into the dungeon to mount a rescue mission

To his utter relief, Trevor had so far eluded capture and was only a few feet away from the door.

To his utter bewilderment, Trevor was sitting in the middle of a bulrush covered swamp surrounded by fully-clothed Slytherins and a wide selection of woven baskets. The Slytherins sat in pairs with a woven basket before each of them, the boys carefully threading reeds through the sticks the girls held in place with firm grip. Millicent was paired with Snape and before them sat by far the most complex and well-made basket of all. Harry bit his cheek until it bled in order to stop himself from laughing his head off as he realised that Crabbe and Goyle's effort was far better than their blond-haired master's.

Only somewhat relieved to find out that the Slytherins were basket-weavers rather than orgiastic Death-Munchers, Harry made a Snitch-catch worthy dive for the toad but before he could get back upstairs, the furious Potions Master blocked his only exit. Harry was forced to retreat into a corner, Trevor carefully concealed under his cloak, and wait for the eager toad hunt to end.

"Dark-damned toad!" Draco grumbled to Crabbe as he gently pushed aside a well-tended bulrush to inspect the mud beneath. "I only just managed to smooth out the knot in my reed when it interrupted."

"Knot?" For the first time ever, Harry heard Crabbe snort derisively at one of Draco's remarks. "It wasn't a knot, it was a bloody snarl. You put that into your weave and you'd end up with a basket that would split as soon as your Mum put one of her punishing paddles in it."

"You bloody well take that back, Gryffie lover!" Draco's usually pale skin had turned delicate water-lily pink.

Harry would have paid half the money in his Gringotts vault to have had a camera at the moment that Crabbe swung at Draco's head. His massive ham-fist missed the shorter boy's head by an inch and instead punched a hole in the carefully constructed basket for torture implements that sat behind Draco.

The barbeque fork bounced off Draco's head and landed in Pansy's foot, causing her to scream and knee Blaise Zabini who was trying to pull it out again.

"Bloody hell, girl," the boy replied, "Are you trying to make me as impotent as your boyfriend?"

Harry would have paid the other half to have a picture of the chaos that ensued when Draco hit Crabbe in the solar plexus as he protected Blaise and Goyle suffered a crisis of loyalty. Harry could practically see the other boy asking himself which friend was he supposed to punch out first and could only just stop himself from laughing as he ran for the stairs, toad firmly in hand, sides aching from stopping his guffaws.

Harry's amazing luck at seeing Draco attacked by one of his own goons had burnt out his good fortune in the Slytherin basket-weaving room and a trail of muddy footprints that would have Filch cursing all students later, especially rascally sneaking ones, caught Snape's attention just as Harry rounded the staircase corner.

Enraged that someone may have discovered the most noble Slytherin secret, Snape rushed up the stairs hoping to catch the spying toad-thief.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he was flung back against his following students as a cackling Peeves dive-bombed him.

"Snape you ape, you've lost again! Crouching bullfrog, hidden Potter!"


	2. Harry and the Dumbadores of Ravenclaw

Congratulations to Morgan who correctly identified the title as being from Tenacious D's "Tribute".

We disclaim. If Harry was ours, we'd be sipping vodka martinis with Alan Rickman and bashing Dolores Umbridge to death with an umbrella before using her as our new unidentifiable corpse.

MARG says: virtual cookies are baking for those who laugh. Actual cookies are baking for those who review. Once again, this is only as filthy as you are.

**The Dumb-Adores of Ravenclaw**

Harry, flush from his hasty exit, realised that returning to the Gryffindor common room with the whole of Slytherin House in hot pursuit could only lead to capture and finally. After only six years of being hunted by Voldemort, he took the wiser path of rushing for the Room of Requirement to think and plot strategy.

Trevor was clearly a target now, and as he was the pet of Harry's friend, it was obviously Harry's job to protect him and stop Snape from using him as a potions ingredient.

So intent on his thoughts of escape, Harry didn't notice the hood of the invisibility cloak had slipped down to his shoulders as he crashed through the silencing charms. He didn't realise the cobweb thin layer even existed until the unmistakable sound of a girl's high pitched squeal pierced his eardrums.

"More! Faster! Harder! Push! I wanna go higher! WEEEEEE!"

The ominous rumbling should have warned the muggle-born Harry that something heavy was rolling towards him and that, like Indiana Jones, he had better run or be hero-jam.

Only Trevor wriggling out of his hand and making the desperate leap for the nearest doorway allowed Harry to escape the terrible fate of being crushed by a squealing Ravenclaw in a butter-beer barrel. It was Cho, in lederhosen and a Viking horned helmet.

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered to Trevor, "has the whole school been taken over by body-snatching aliens tonight?"

"Oh no, Harry," Luna replied sweetly from the doorway behind him, "the Slytherins are always filthy minded basket-weaving bonkers."

Harry gaped at her. "But…?"

"Don't worry, it can be our little secret along with the fact that all the Ravenclaws are actually Dumb-Adores." She sighed happily and cast an unusually focused stare his way. "I guess that's why I find you so attractive."

Luna farted loudly and the Ravenclaws behind her fell about laughing. Harry wondered if Luna's bodily gases had strange powers of turning everyone into jackasses. He could believe it of her.

His mouth got sick of waiting for his brain to catch up with events and said, "Dumb-Adores?"

"We worship the Silly." Luna explained. "Adore the Dumb. Delight in the Daft. Ron Weasley is one of our most esteemed peers, along with his elder brothers." Luna dropped her voice to a whisper as she spoke the honoured names "Gred and Forge are naturally our Kings – who do you think taught the Slytherins that song? Charlie and Bill as well; they made the current generation of professional Fools look like Ernie McMillan. Percy is always good for a laugh. Too why did you think Penelope went out with him for so long? It was hardly for his exceptional tongue skills."

Harry's brain took the opportunity of being back on the firmer ground of Percy bashing to say, "But a butterbeer barrel?"

"'I am Ring-winner and Luckwearer; and I am Barrel-rider.'" Luna beamed. "We may be silly but we're still Ravenclaws. I thought of Bilbo when he puts the dwarves in barrels to send them downriver. The Room of Requirement balked at providing an actual river so we improvised." She said and presented her tongue with a little wiggle. "Fancy a ride?"

Harry gulped, thought of Ginny and then remembered he was a Gryffindor, boldly going where others were too smart to tread.

"OK."

The next thing Harry knew he was sitting in an empty butterbeer barrel at the top of the staircase that led to the Room of Requirement with Loony Lovegood proving her moniker. Barnabas the Barmy leered at him from his painting at the bottom. Trevor wriggled deeper into his pocket, not sure he liked this new turn of events.

"You are a total nutter," Harry mumbled as she patted him on the head, took firm grip of the wood and manoeuvred into position. "You sure you aren't half-Muggle?"

"Absolutely." Luna tilted her head and stared at him with more focus than he had ever seen her apply to anything that wasn't the Quibbler. "Why?"

"Because I don't know a single wizard that would know what a skateboard ramp was, let alone know enough to use it as a loop the loop with a Hogwarts moving staircase for a barrel riding… AHHHHHHHHH!"

Harry found his famed Gryffindor courage put to the test once more as Luna bored of his long-windedness and gave him a good hard push.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Harry whirled one way and his world rotated the other he bounced down the Hogwarts stairs and into the Room of Requirement before being thrown back into the air to do it again and again until spots fandango'd before his eyes.

"STOP!" He yelled and the barrel rolled to Luna's feet. He crawled out, stomach spinning like a tumble dryer, and kissed the ground before him.

Unfortunately for Harry, the ground directly before him was covered by Luna's feet so he found himself gripping the Ravenclaw's ankles in a position that, he was sure, Ginny would not like.

"I accept!" Luna clapped her hands together happily. "This is exactly how Daddy proposed to Mum! He always said she made him dizzy with desire!"

Harry's mouth found itself well ahead of his brain once more.

"Fuck."

"OK. I wouldn't usually but we are engaged."

"Loony & Potty are engaged!" Squealed Michael Corner. "Give me a P! Give me an A! Give me an R! Give me a T! Give me a Y! What do we have?"

"WANKER!" The whole of Ravenclaw House shouted back.

"That's right!" Michael cheered happily, before muttering in a dark undertone. "You bastards are all going to die the next time we play 'Hunt the Ferret around the Slytherin Dungeons'. I know where Draco's room is."

As he turned around, he was hit in the face with a pie. "Mmm," he murmured as he licked his face clean, "vintage canary cream custard." Then he burst into a canary and started singing the Thundercats theme tune to the melody of Mendelssohn's Wedding March as Luna dragged Harry into the Room of Requirement, which had a Crumple-Horned-Snorkack dressed in priest's robes ready to perform the ceremony.

Harry had the momentarily comforting thought that if the Snorkack did in fact exist that his new bride's birdbrain wasn't totally round-the-twist, or at least not more than any of the coca-cola snorting Ravenclaws who were now spouting coke over them.

"Potty, do you solemnly swear that you are up to no good as you take this Dumb-Adore, Loony, as your lawfully wedded fart-instrument Deus-ex-Machina?" Without waiting for Harry's stunned reply, he went on, "Loony, do you solemnly swear that you are up to no good as you take this Gryffie-Whore as your lawfully wedded belch-machine Tortured-Hero? Then in the name of all that Monty Python's Flying Circus hold Sacredly Silly, you may kiss the groom."

Luna leaned forwards, her head circled by tiny red-winged Veneris birds with little crossbows for better accuracy in love.

Harry wished that the ground would swallow him.

Then it did.

He'd completely forgotten he was standing in the Room of Requirement.

Unfortunately, he'd also forgotten that Hogwarts had chosen Dumbledore as its Headmaster and had a sense of humour that a Dumb-Adore would appreciate.


	3. Harry and the Hoff of Hufflepuff

At this point the authors would like to thank Nonjon for his kind permission to let us use his "Hufflepuff Manifesto" without which this fic would not have been written. Once again, we urge you to read his trilogy beginning with "Where in the World is Harry Potter?" though the Manifesto appears only in chapter 13 of "You Did What!"

To all those who have read it & laughed, we say only this: Moo.

To all those who have read it & not laughed, we repeat our request for unidentifiable corpses. Our need is getting more urgent by the chapter.

We disclaim. We know not what we did, only whom we did it to.

**The Hoff of Hufflepuff**

Falling into a comfortable chair was not what Harry expected when he was swallowed by the ground.

Groaning softly (falling through the floor is always an uncomfortable experience even if the landing is soft) Harry sat up and looked opened his eyes.

He immediately wished he'd kept them closed.

"Merlin's elbow in a butter dish," he swore to himself, and immediately thought of Ginny only to have some truly terrible mental images be conjured on the screen of his eyelids. "Oh botheration! Why did it have to be David the Engorgio'd Pecs Hasselhoff?"

"Blasphemy!" Peeves shrieked noisily. "Oh Potter you rotter! You have blasphemed the Greatest Dark God of Them All!" The poltergeist swept down to whisper in his ear, "If you want me to kill you before this gets really ugly, just say the word. You're almost worthy of being my apprentice, now that B.B. is graduating after only 200 years."

"Peeves, go check on the Bloody Baron. I think he's been at the ketchup again; his bloodstains are looking stickier than usual. Evening, Harry," Justin Finch-Fletchley said calmly. "Welcome to the Hufflepuff Hall of the Hoff. It is here that we worship the Greatest Dark God of Them All, Sacrificing to Him many hours in the Puff gym in order to gain the Pecs of Power."

Harry tried to sit up and found himself bound to the chair by insidious strands of a plant that looked suspiciously like Devil's Snare.

He hadn't faced down Voldemort to kowtow to Justin though, and he strained against the stems with manly effort. He remembered an old black and white movie he'd managed to watch on a day when Mrs. Figg had fallen asleep in the other room and stuck out his jaw like the fearless hero of it. At least he hoped it looked defiant, not just petulantly piggy as Dudley did when he imitated the stars. "Am I your prisoner?"

"Prisoner?" Hannah Abbot appeared behind Justin and threw back her long blonde hair as she laughed. "No, you're our guest. We've been watching you and we had the Room of Requirement bring you to exactly where you needed to be."

"But…" Harry trailed off and glanced down at the plant that had now encased both arms and legs in caressing tendrils that were suspiciously hairy and soft, but surprisingly tough.

"That's Devil's Chest Hair Snare. It's almost unbreakable and very, very smart. It's just there to make sure you don't hurt yourself on any of the implements of torture around the room." Hannah answered sweetly.

Harry relaxed momentarily then remembered Hermione's teachings on the subtleties of sophistries. He was back on familiar ground with this one. "That means I'm completely at your mercy, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes," Hannah and Justin replied together as Ernie approached carrying a really big knife.

Harry shrugged and the Puffs noticed that the Devil's Chest Hair had eaten his pyjama shirt and lower legs of his trousers, but left the Gryffindor red material perfectly intact in the form of boxer-style shorts. Two of them stifled a sigh over the Quidditch honed body that the DCH left revealed and the third wondered how he got his legs so smooth.

As one, the entirety of Hufflepuff House appeared in the common room and said "We are the Dark Gods. We Rule Over All and this is Our Manifesto.

"**1). There is no good and evil, there is only power... and those too weak to seek it.**

**2). There is no good and evil! There is only power! And those too weak to seek it!**

**3). Live fast, die young, and leave a mutilated unidentifiable corpse behind. And then, when no one's paying attention, assume the previous life of that corpse. Repeat as necessary.**

**4). Wizard, Witch, Pureblood, Halfblood, Muggleborn, Squib, Muggle. None of it matters, as inside they are all the same: five litres of blood and an infinite number of ways to spill it. Except for babies. They don't have quite as much blood.**

**5). Tattoos are for pussies and Death Eaters. Real men carve art into their flesh with knives, not needles, ink, or magic."**

As one, the Puffs glanced at Harry and skipped the next two items of their manifesto. There were some things he just didn't need to know.

Ernie urged them on, conducting them as he would a battle or a marching band.

"**8). Men will wrong you, or wrong the true ideals of a 'puffer. When a man does, see if he expresses remorse. If he does, tell him you accept his apology. Nurse his wounds, become his friend, and help him to become healthy. Then as he turns his back to you to leave, slit his throat. If the man doesn't express remorse, then kill his mother, kill his sister, kill his wife, kill his daughter, and rape his dog. Grant only the mercy of death to those who are remorseful. And give only pain to those who are not. No one fucks with a 'puff."**

"And now," Hannah said.

"You will answer," Justin continued.

"Our every question." Ernie finished.

"And just so you know," Hannah smiled.

"Resistance is futile," Justin quoted.

"But it makes this so much more fun," Ernie ended with a wicked glint in his eye reflected off the knife.

"What are the secrets of Gryffindor House?" Hannah asked softly.

_Cut._

"How did you find out about the secrets of the other Houses?"

_Cut._

"What secret Dark rituals did you perform to become so good at Quidditch?"

_Cut._

"Why didn't the Sorting House place you in Hufflepuff House if you're so good at DADA?"

_Cut._

"How long was Oliver's wood?"

_Cut._

"Did Cedric die because of you?"

_Cut._

"Are Ron and Hermione actually shagging or just snogging?"

_Cut._

"Did you really fancy Cho Chang or was she just a McGonagall replacement?" The others all turned to stare at Ernie. "What?" He asked innocently. "She's got that sexy stern librarian thing going on. You know she'd be an animal in bed."

Shuddering, Justin and Hannah went back to carving 'The Hoffed One' into Harry's chest while Trevor ribbited loudly.

_Cut._

"Ow, ow, ow," Harry muttered. "OK. The answers are: don't know, chasing Trevor, none, enough Firewhisky to get Hagrid drunk enough to shag a Hippogriff, very, yes, damned if I know, definitely yes and eurgh."

"Then Cedric Diggory failed as a 'Puff. His loyalty availed him naught. He lived fast and died young, but he left an identifiable corpse. He has not, as we heretofore assumed, merely changed his name and appearance and begun life again as Stubby Boardman. He is truly dead. That is not acceptable. He is therefore demoted from the status of Dark God of Hufflepuff to Mere Mortal of Hogwarts. All those who support the motion say 'Bloody fool'. All those against say 'Bloody cool'."

Ernie paused. There was not a single "bloody cool" in Cedric's support.

"Motion passed."

Harry knew he had spent too much time in the company of the Dumb-Adores when he snickered at that sentence. He had to escape. He had to get away from the other Houses of Hogwarts where insanity was the entry requirement and being nothing less than total goat-shagging nuts was preferable.

At least in Gryffindor, Harry told himself, there aren't any earth-staggering secrets to be revealed. He was soon to be proved so very wrong that it wouldn't be funny, it would be hilarious. Unless you were Harry. Then it was just a pain in the bum.

The 'Puffs were distracted by the ongoing argument about who would replace Cedric now that he was no longer the Chief of the Dark Gods who Ruled Over All. Some suggested Harry himself, while others argued that Peeves should be consulted over the choice, since he had seen them all grow from their first year barely Gods at all to their current status as Dark Gods who Ruled.

Harry wriggled and fought against the insidious bindings of the Devil's Chest Hair. As a strand approached his face, he looked from hairy brown plant to hairy brown chest and swore quietly. "It's only David sodding Hasselhoff's chest hair!"

Yet staring at those incredible pecs gave Harry an idea and all those hours of Quidditch practice and broomstick-length comparisons that Oliver had made him do had more advantages than lightning quick toad catching reflexes. They had given Harry pecs that the Hoff would appreciate and that had already earned the respect of the Puffs. These magnificent chest muscles allowed him to perform the Ancient and Mystic Pec Flex, which is the only way to stop the Devils Chest Hair, breaking its hold over him and allowing him to make it to the door before the Puffs stopped arguing long enough to notice.

"Accio Trevor!" He cast as softly as he could but even the arguing Puffs could not ignore a flying amphibian.

"Oh, bravissimo, Harry!" Ernie applauded and the rest of the House joined in. "Not only did you not break under torture, you also freed yourself of the Devil's Chest Hair Snare and entrapped your enemies with it. All those who say Harry is a True Puff at Heart say 'All Hail the Dark God!' All those who think he's just a nancy-boy that we should have killed off years ago in order to take over his role in life say "All Impale the Daft Sod!'"

Harry was relieved to learn that not one of them wanted to see him impaled.

Having named him an honorary 'Puff, they reminded him that when the time to fight Voldemort came they would be behind him. They were a force to be reckoned with. They demonstrated their power when Harry asked, and it shed a whole new light over his Leader and the lemon-drop controlled dementia of the Headmaster, or All Puffs' Wizarding-Bitch Dumbledore as he was also known. Harry felt himself much comforted by that. The fight against Voldemort was looking less likely to be a pyrrhic victory by the minute.

As Ernie said to the Headmaster, "Look, Albitch: No one fucks with a 'Puff."


	4. Harry and the Unspeakables of Gryffindor

We apologise for the delay in the posting of this second to last chapter. It was mostly caused by unavoidable computer problems. It was partially caused by laziness. The computer problems are fixed. The laziness problems continue. Nothing short of magic will fix those – so anyone who feels like a faster fifth chapter should probably offer Pepper-Up Potion in their feedback.

We disclaim and remind our readers once again that this is only as dirty as your minds. In our case, that means it's dirtier than Draco's underwear after a Quidditch match.

Finally, we would like to point out that this is a work of fantasy that owes its life to Nonjon, whom we proclaim a Hufflepuff Dark God on a par with the Hoff. Read the Where in the World is Harry Potter? trilogy and if you don't laugh at that or the Hoff's latest single, we'll know you're dead and be round to collect the body in the morning.

**The Unspeakables of Gryffindor**

Having barely escaped from the 'Puffs with his life intact, let alone his pyjamas, Harry longed for the comforting familiarity of the Gryffindor Tower and his four-poster bed. Trevor too seemed wearied by the night's adventures and ready for bed.

Despite the legendary Gryffindor courage, Harry's heart sank into his shoes as he approached the door of the boys' dormitory and heard muffled talking that could only mean some of the Gryffindor girls had come to visit. He wasn't sure if he could take one of Hermione's well-meant nagging sessions having already escaped the horrors of three other Houses that night.

A nightmare worse than one of Hermione's nagathons awaited him however. Opening the door he could see that Ron had already pulled the curtains together around his bed and retired for the night. The absence of ear splitting snores told Harry that his friend wasn't asleep yet and just as he yawned and put on clean pyjamas, ready for bed, once more a far more terrible sound assaulted him.

"What a pretty pussy!" Ron murmured from his bed.

"Oh yes," Hermione throatily cooed in response. "Don't you want to stroke her fur?"

Any idea of sleeping in the Gryffindor common room was shattered by a third voice, Ginny's this time, adding "Ohh, isn't she soft?"

Harry found that he was as incapable of movement as if under a full body bind as Hermione and Ginny moaned in unison.

Trevor suffered no such limitation and started to wriggle suggestively in hand as Neville could be heard to say "Isn't it amazing how much better she responds to six hands than two?"

"Oh fuck." Harry muttered for the second time that night. "Dark Gods of Hufflepuff, just kill me now. You can even use my body as your next unidentifiable corpse."

Clearly hoping to avoid the lightning bolt that would shortly strike Harry and not become a fried-toad, Trevor hopped from hand to floor and ribbited loudly in pleasure.

A heavy purring sound issued from behind the bed curtains and Hermione's hand crept out to pull them apart.

Minnie, who was a very pretty pussy, leapt from bed to floor and the girls cried out happily as she waved her long tabby tail in farewell to them, the rest of her concentration fixed firmly on the toad before her. Her back curved in the classic pouncing position and her ears twitched meaningfully.

"Stop her before she eats him!" Neville begged, still entangled in the bed sheets that the girls had thrown aside to follow Minnie.

"I'm more likely to eat her!" Neville's Uncle Algie replied as he transformed back into his human from toad form. He raised an eyebrow at a shocked looking Hermione. "You disapprove, Miss Granger, but what if I want her to eat me?"

Minnie purred on the floor and ran out of the room, Uncle Algie in hot pursuit. Only Harry was quick enough to lean out of the doorway and see the permanently scarring sight. Minnie's raised tail had become McGonagall's robed back and Uncle Algie was chasing her through the Gryffindor tower calling "But I want to pet the pretty pussy!"

"Then hop faster, Long-tongue!" Minnie slid down the banisters and took a flying leap out of the portrait hole, purring temptingly.

Shaking in horror, Harry collapsed on his bed and hoped that his nightmarish evening was over. Hogwarts wasn't finished with him yet though.

At the stroke of midnight, Harry was woken by a noise in the dormitory loud enough to drown out Ron's snores & stomach rumblings.

Jumping out of bed with wand in hand and seeing Dean, Seamus and Ron poke their heads out through their curtains, Harry was confronted by a mysterious cloaked figure. "Wotcha Harry."

"Shut it, Tonks." Neville's voice surprised all four boys and they turned to look at him in shock, a feeling that only increased when Tonks replied smartly "Yes, sir!"

"Tonight is the night boys," Neville announced, having acquired a bizarrely American military accent and a cigar which he chomped from one side of his mouth to the other. "This is the night we've all been training for since the Sorting Hat put us into Gryffindor."

"What the fuck?" Asked all 4 Gryffies.

"Tonight you become the best of the best, the finest of the finest, the toughest of the tough, the Gryffiest of the Gryffies. Tonight you become Unspeakables. I've been training for this day since Bellatrix chose my parents as her playthings when I was fourteen months old. We are the Ministry's finest, but the Ministry does not acknowledge that we exist. We will never be rewarded for our services publicly but all Aurors owe a debt to our brethren. The first rule of Unspeakables is that you do not speak about the Unspeakables! The second rule of the Unspeakables is that YOU DO NOT SPEAK ABOUT THE UNSPEAKABLES!"

"This is the first night of the rest of your lives. Listen to me and those lives may not be short. Ignore my words and you will not be in big enough pieces to regret it. I am your liaison with previous Unspeakables, or at least those who lived. You will jump when I say "insilio", you will run when I say "curro", you will clean when I say "scourgify" and you will not question your orders, ever. You will learn to throw off the Imperius curse, to block every dark spell but one and to cast many too. Most of all, you will take the war against Voldemort to where it belongs – his grave."

The new Unspeakables gasped at Neville saying You-Know-Whose Name without stammering. Tonks flinched and hid behind Harry as Trevor the toad reappeared in the doorway.

"Tonks, you're an Auror dating a werewolf, why are you hiding behind a schoolboy?" Harry whispered to her as the toad expanded into a fierce looking Auror, his ferocious image rather spoiled by the tabby fur that coated his black robe and the way his hair stuck up at the back in a cat's lick curl.

Tonks whispered back, "You're the Chosen One. You're the only one who will have to get out of here in a big enough piece to live. Who better to hide behind?"

"Unspeakable double oh-one Longbottom, report!" Uncle Algie barked.

"Sod off you old pussy petting toad, I'm the Unspeakable one here." The others were as shocked as Algie as the round faced boy straightened his shoulders and showed off a pair of pecs under his pyjamas that would have put any Hoff-worshipping 'Puff to shame. "You will hate me, you will curse me, you will wish I had never been born, but the day you come face to face with a Death Eater whose greatest wish is to see you dead, you will be grateful for what I'm about to do. Except for you Harry. Sorry."

The wordless spell flashed from the end of Neville's wand and surrounded Harry in red and gold light, blinding everyone including Hermione, who had just appeared in the dormitory doorway. When it faded Harry was gone and a small bulrush remained in his place. Unable to resist nature, Uncle Algie transformed back into a toad and let out a particularly loud ribbit as he leaped on it.

"Coming!" McGonagall called from the hallway outside.

"She wasn't the only one," Dean complained from his bed as Lavender poked her head out from underneath the covers and screamed at the sight of Ron in his Chudley Canons pyjamas. The sight of all that orange clashing with his red hair was too much for the fashion conscious Gryffie and her famed house courage vanished as she fainted back onto Dean's bed.

Always one to keep her head in a crisis, Hermione covered her eyes from the dreadful sight and said, "But where's Harry?"


	5. Harry and the DigForGlory of Durmstrang

We disclaim. Hahahaha! Hans and Gretchen are ours, hands off JKR! Unfortunately, everything else is hers and we must make deep obeisance to her genius and to that of the inspiration for this story. To Nonjon, forever. If you and Rowling aren't Puff Gods, no one is.

We apologise to the above two authors and Terry Pratchett for the final line of this fic. It wasn't our fault. Hasselhoff made us do it.

(Good luck finding us – we finally found some people who would make good corpses! The final update: Sunset over Bobmin! Your Technicolor penguin farm is ours! BWAHAHAHA!)

**The Dig-For-Glory of Durmstrang**

Falling onto his arse in knee deep snow as his apparition attempt failed and surrounded by wolves with scarily big teeth that made Moony's seem inadequate, Harry looked around and sighed.

"Why does this shit always happen to me?" He asked as Durmstrang's students turned back into their human forms and glared at him.

"You are Harry Potter, winner of the Triwizard Cup, enemy of Voldemort, man of Dumbledore, and," the last words were whispered in hushed awe, "Friend of Hermy-oh-nee?"

"Er, yes?" Harry said.

"Then you must die." The dark haired boy grinned nastily at Harry. "For none shall live while one survives."

"Er, I think you've got that a bit wrong."

"No, the prophecy is very clear. If we are to have the peace required to finish the Great Project, both you and the Dark Lord must die for your existence blasphemes against our God."

"God?"

"Surely they must tell of the great and powerful Dig-for-Glory in Britain?"

"Dig-For-Glory?"

"Hans, you fool, your accent is worse than that Bulgarian extra on Baywatch." A slim brunette girl hit the taller boy upside the head. "It's Dig-Gory, not Dig-For-Glory. The Dark God of Hufflepuff must be honoured. Those who led to his death must be sacrificed to pacify his spirit. Only then will we win the Quidditch World Cup."

"The Ashes must be restored." Hans nodded.

"That's cricket, you muggle-born idiot." Gretchen spat.

"You mean you want to restore the Glory to Dig?" Harry asked, utterly confounded.

"We want to restore the Great Puff God to his former Glory, before he was foully murdered by that rat-faced snake-sucker, Pettigrew, and his piece of cat vomit master, Moldieshorts."

"Cedric Diggory?" Harry hadn't been friends with Hermione Granger for six years for nothing. Unfortunately, he hadn't been friends with Ron Weasley for six years for nothing either. "He died because of me."

"Which is why you must die to pacify his spirit." Hans was back on firmer ground here. Durmstrang was very clear on the subject of death – either you ate it or it ate you.

"Could we just kill Peter Pettigrew who actually murdered him?" Harry asked nervously, feeling for his wand and stopping when he realised that there were at least eight wolf-animagi students still eyeing him hungrily. At least, he hoped they were animagi.

Hans and Gretchen exchanged a look.

"That could work." Hans suggested.

"No, the prophecy is very clear. Harry must die for Cedric to be avenged." Harry had thought that Gretchen was rather pretty, in a Cho Chang way, but now he realised that she looked much more like Pansy Parkinson than the butterbeer barrel riding Ravenclaw.

"To the Wicker-Snow-Man!" Hans cried.

"Prepare the ice-throwers!" Gretchen ordered the two big Durmstrang students that reminded Harry of Crabbe and Goyle.

"No! I have to kill Voldemort! I have to tell Ginny I might l-er, like her! I have to live!" Harry screamed as they picked him up and carried him over the snow covered plain.

"Tough luck," Gretchen patted his arse comfortingly from her position under him. "The Dark Gods are All Powerful and since we got sent to second-rate Dark-God school we have to work extra hard at manipulating the rest of the world. We don't even have any Slytherins to take the blame for us."

Harry gave up, reached for his wand, remembered he'd dropped it when Tonks had grabbed his arse back in the Gryffindor dorm, sighed and leaned back. He could try to fight his way out and be used as a Durmstrang chew toy.

Lifted into the snowman's stomach, Harry thought that there were worse deaths.

His arms were raised above his head and his wrists tied together, making his chest muscles clench.

"Nice pyjamas," Hans commented, only for Gretchen to look up and run her hand over Harry's chest.

"Forget the pjs, feel his pecs, mmmm."

Hans pouted then struck a bodybuilder's pose. "Mine are better."

"Hah! Delusions of Hoff-dom!" Gretchen ripped open Harry's shirt and exposed his chest to the freezing cold air, making his nipples become almost as hard as Hans' glare. "Now that is a chest!"

Harry was shocked as Hans, Gretchen and all the Durmstrang students fell to their knees, including the wolves. "The Coiffed Hoffed One Approaches! He is marked by the Hoff! We almost killed a Chosen One! Great Dark God of the Hogwarts, please, we beg you, do not kill your humble servants for our mistake!"

Rolling his eyes at this particular case of hero-worship, almost as familiar as people trying to kill him, Harry shrugged. "Untie me and let me go and I won't say anything more about it."

Hans and Gretchen fell over each other to untie Harry, begging him again and again for his forgiveness, repeating again and again the words "I'll be there, whenever you call, I'll be there, whenever you need me, I'll be there" as a mantra. He briefly considered signing them up to the D.A. as shock-troops but realised that he really didn't want to involve the Puffs by using their pawn set in his own chess game. The price the Dark Gods would exact would probably be worse than anything old Moldieshorts could think up for him.

"Please," Gretchen and Hans knelt before him, "accept this as a token of our sincere regret at our actions."

They pushed into Harry's hands the scarlet swimming trunks embossed in gold made famous by their greatest God. "It is our most prized possession."

Revolted by the idea of holding another man's undies, Harry hid his grimace and asked how he could get out back to Hogwarts without apparition. They quickly led him to a small hunting lodge with a dragon head "that of the foul creature that tried to burn Dig-Glory" mounted above the fireplace.

"Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts School", Harry almost screamed and leapt into the fire almost before the flames turned green.

Hans and Gretchen sighed as his pecs vanished and went back into the forest to continue their mission to create the world's biggest abominable snowman with the biggest carrot Gretchen had ever seen, which bizarrely resembled Dumbledore's nose and was put somewhere very interesting indeed.

Harry returned to his dorm just in time to hear Neville's newly Americanised voice say, "The Potters, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys and the Browns, these are all noble Unspeakable names. The noblest of these is the Bells though. Katie graduated into the Holyhead Harpies, the finest branch of the secret Auror ranks having achieved the highest grades in twenty years. Not since the Longbottom-Potter-Evans class has such a promising young Auror entered into service and lived. If you're lucky, you will be one fifth as good as her."

"From this moment, you will train as you've never trained before. You will be a crack-squad of elite commandos, capable of working as a team or separately, capable of anything I, the Ministry or your Country asks you to do." The cigar had burnt down to a stub and had cast an eerie light over Neville's face, changing the soft curves into suggestive angles of devilry. As if to increase the effect, Neville grinned satirically. "By the end of this summer, Lavender, you will make Jack Bauer look like a Death-Nibbling pussy."

Harry dropped backwards onto the bed and groaned, "Why did I ever follow that yellow sick toad?"

The End. For Now.


End file.
